Christmas Posting

A slow wander down the road led to the early packets being deposited into the care of Royal Mail.  The care is not what it was but what can you expect with a Tory government that cares only for making money for themselves?  Privatised Royal Mail, with precedence being given to parcels, cares little about actual mail today.  This is the reason letters are delayed, postmen confused day by day as to what role they will play, and an attempt to sell of Royal Mail parcels to the people who now run Royal Mail will come before the election.

Rejoice!  Rejoice!

Note the Post Office name!

The Jubilee Oak used to sit just up the road from this shop.  It sat in the middle of the road until they redesigned the road, chopped down the tree and the shops on the corner, which stuck out a fair bit, and installed traffic lights and dare-devil crossings.  

I suspect it was Victoria's jubilee, lots appear to have been planted at that time for jubilee, they did the same for the last queen.  How many were conveniently placed so as to block the clogged roads 70 years or so later?

Nothing else happened...

Long Night, Long Day

Another tiring day.  

Struggled to wake this morning, forced myself up, and breakfasted on a stale roll.  Some folks have less than this of course.  I cogitated on the day and decided I wished it to be a restful one, except of course I had the parcel to post.  Another birthday, another waddle down to the Post Office at the corner shop, I go there because the young lady always smiles at me, unlike the miserable dragons at what laughingly, is the main Post Office in town.  So, sun cream applied, desert hat on head, off I hobbled.  

There is a wind at the moment but the sun was about 70% as I headed east.  I could feel it on my face, in spite of the hat, and my absurd appearance meant several vans and cars slowed down to let me cross the road when required.  They needed the laugh I suppose.

After this my day was over.  Groomed and fed I just dozed away for a while.

This is the Longest Day, and the sky has been bright since very early, which I did not see.

The reason for the sloth this morning was easy to find.  Last night I began to watch Scotland playing Georgia, a 7:45 kick off time.  However, before the game began there had been an almighty cloudburst and 6 days worth of heavy rain fell in a couple of hours.  Now, major football grounds have systems to remove rainwater falling during a game, this was too much for Hampden however, and some decisions had to be made before the game went ahead.  

In spite of Michael Stewart constantly referring to having played in worse, which was a lie, the water was forming huge puddles, the ball did not run, bounce or flow, there was indeed now ay to play in such circumstances.

UEFA however insisted the game went ahead.

Players splashed about in dire conditions, Scotland even scored a goal, but the ref then left the field and we began well over two hours of debate as to whether the game ought to continue, or be abandoned and play again the next night in Paisley.  Any sensible person would play the next night.

UEFA insisted the game continued.

So we saw the ground staff, ball boys, volunteers aplenty attempt to brush the excess water from the field.  Eventually, well after 9:15 pm the game restarted.  Georgia were far from pleased, and quite rightly, and they were even more unhappy when Scotland scored a second goal and eventually ran out winners by 2-0.

The game finished at 11:20 pm, at lest what I made it, the crowd had remained throughout, they had paid their tickets and no information was forthcoming thanks to UEFA, and many a child was late for school this morning, many a man was asleep at work, and all considered it worth while.

During the waiting time the announcer played music over the Tannoy.  Above we see the list of songs played, many enthusiastically supported by the crowd joining in.  'Don't let it rain on me,' by a Glasgow group, the favourite of the night.

Speed and Coffee Talk

Not that long ago a workmen's van arrived, stopped across the road, unloaded gear, set up a security fence, climbed the ladder, placed this sign on the lamppost, collected the gear, and drove off.  Thirty minutes work.

Nobody has taken a blind bit of notice!

As I trudged down to the Post Office to finally post my card to the new born, the rain began, the cars splashed, and none looked up to find a big '20' sign in front of them.  I suspect this is because there is no sign at the beginning of the road, nor one following on from where the supermarket shoppers join the road.  Ignorance is bliss for many, deliberately from some.

Whether such a speed on this main road helps is debatable but few are debating at the moment.  I can understand this on the side streets where people often wander on the road, but this is a main carriageway and heavy traffic can be found on many days, including 'rush hour' traffic that never reaches 20 mph on any day.  

Having posted my cards 'Special Delivery' (£6:85) to ensure they get there this week, I wandered around to the church coffee morning to get out of the increasing rain.  The occasion is an excuse for old women from the locale to join old women from the church, and one or two men, for a mornings gossip.  It is one of the things that keeps such women alive.  Many are lonely, one or two not quite right, and all like to gossip.  During the day they get bored, at night they watch dumb TV, and the next day they find another church with tea on the go to fill a moment.  My mother used them when she aged, and enjoyed them all.  Here, my beard growth was encouraged by one women in the hope I would play Santa next year!  My reply was curt.  

After being offered a lift home I returned to eat and sleep.  Which sums up my life at the moment.

The abode requires urgent cleaning, and much has to be done.  However, there is no urgent cleaner on show at the moment, and none of the women, bored as they are, would offer.  So it may be left until next week...

Now normally, I am not one to Complain, but...

So, being desperate to post a packet to my latest Great Niece I hobbled unwillingly down the road to the PO.  My knees expressed their dismay, my tired body indicated my bed was the other way, and the sun cheered me up by shining in my eyes from a very low angle generously blinding me.  I was surprised to find the smiling lady not at work, the sub PO was closed.  "It opens at 10am," said the man running the shop and doing about 96 hours a week.  Holiday arrangements I presume.  Vexed, my knees considered murder and mayhem as I trudged back the way I had come.  This was not the day to fail, I was too tired to cope, and I therefore did not cope well.

Back home I considered my position, I considered lying flat on my back the best option, however, needs must, so I rose and continued the joy filled day.  The router is still slow, speed of 11, instead of 50.  I was thinking of playing with it again but instead I began to make soup.  My good day was to continue here.  All went reasonably well, though the suitable ingredients were hard to find, anything and everything was thrust in.  I continued with other important work such as clearing the mess left by this soup operation, and realised the soup was burning!  I now have four more bowls of vile burnt soup to eat, with a smile.  I know it is vile as I had two bowls and suddenly understood why Indian and Pizza takeaways are so popular.

Then I had to remove the rubbish for the men tomorrow, or whenever they come.  I also had to clamber down to the cellar, find the electric meter readings, and struggle back upstairs, smiling all the way.  Already the electric people have sent letters warning of increased prices, but not of how they use the money for their advantage and not mine.  I expect in February when things change I will be robbed blind!  

World Cup Post Strikes

In spite of the postmen striking for the second day in a row I hobbled down to the Post Office and sent off two last packets, though that word does not cover the cheapness of the gifts.  The young lass smiled at me as always, though she was surrounded by two days worth of mail sacks full of items awaiting collection.  This was not helped by the man in the shop unloading a van's worth of items some of which were being dumped upon her.  

The strike continues, it appears to be having no effect on the Tory led privatised top bosses, the top man on £750,000 a year, who wish to amend the pensions, change the rota's, and altar every rule they can to save money and increase shareholders payout.  I doubt the workers, or indeed the railway workers and nurses also on strike for similar reasons will succeed.  The press is Tory controlled, the Labour Party (should it not change the name?) has distanced itself from the strikes in order to get the 'Middle England' vote, and it appears not a word about this was mentioned at PMQs!

Anyway, trudging back in the chilly sunshine I ate and slept.  Having cleaned some of the place today I was in danger of doing too much for my fat bulk.  With so much football taking time I have lots to do, and tomorrow will be another day of housework, possibly.          

Being the 1st day of December, the day I usually post my Christmas cards and parcels, I am a bit annoyed about the strikes.  Two items and one magazine are out there somewhere, no doubt being delivered soon, but I am becoming fretful regarding things sent and when they will arrive.  I support the workers, I understand how difficult life is for them at the moment, but it is a nuisance.   

So, I sit here writing cards, though all the posted ones are already awaiting posting, and these are mostly for the church people.  If I give these out early that forces them to present me with one!  No fool I!  

I know await the Costa Rica showdown.. In 45 minutes they will be playing their last game at the World Cup, against a desperate German side that are close to going out!  Costa will give their all, they may even score a goal, but can they possibly beat, and eliminate a German side?  We live in hope.

Xmas Post

 

Busy day.

I had to stumble down to the Post Office to post a wee packet to Edinburgh.  I arrived behind an attractive young woman with baby in arms.  Unfotunately, in front of her was a woman, clearly a regular, posting a bag full of packets of various sizes.  This appeared to be a usual occurence for her.  

We waited.

We waited.

We waited and we waited.

We chatted between ourselves.

The dozyy child did not join in, sleep was still upon him.

A woman with one envelope joined us.

We waited.

We smirked at the wait.

We waited.

Eventually the lass was finished and the queue rrejoiced.

My turn came and the friendly Asian lass smiled at me as usual, informed me of the price with a quizzical smile, grinned at my gasping, and encouraged me to pay for it.

I like her.  She has personality and works very hard.  This is a family run shop and they work long hours.

Then she has to deal with the kids and feed them all.

Even a 'Tesco Express' opening up almost next door has not killed them, though Tesco do not have a popular Post Office inside.

Back home I attepted to watch the first of four football games today.

All I saw was the end of Argentina's loss to Saudi Arabia.  Ths was difficult as I was already seeking a box for parcel number two.  All day was then spent, between fixing this box and cooking 'Slop Soup.' The soup has lived up to its name.

The packet, during Denmark v Tunisia, was coompleted, 'ParcelForce' arranged to collect it tomorrow, too heavy to carry to PO.  Then my poor dinner cooked badly while Mexico v Poland ran themselvbes into the ground for nothing.

Tonight I sit in the cold bedroom awaiting the heating to climb higher while watching Australia play France.  This is our team now, three Aussies play for the Heart of Midlothian and possibly will appear tonight.  Therefore we are all 'Roos,' now.

One at least appears, here we go!

Saturday Cogitation

I have been cogitating this week on Tuesday's doings.  

On Tuesday, as you know, I ventured out to the Post Office.  This small sub-post office has been there for some time and I have always liked the way the young lady smiles at me each time.  I have yet to decide whether she is grinning or being friendly.  The PO part must be what keeps this shop going.  Just 50 yards away a 'Tesco Express' was opened just in time for Lockdown.  That must have taken a large chunk from the profits here, but they continue to work all the hours of the day.  I asked the man at the shop counter if he ever takes a day off?  I am not sure he does.  I saw the girl in Sainsburys car park once, I think this was the only time she was allowed out.  Asians, possibly Hindu, they never appear to close.  People like this are being turned away for political points by the vile Priti Patel.  I suggest sending her to Rwanda and employing the shop people in the Home Office!

 

I ventured to the church where a coffee morning was taking place.  It is on this that I have been cogitating.  I was offered tea and while accepting found it difficult to allow the woman in charge to go and make one for me.  I wished to do this myself, partly to avoid making work for her, when had been busy for an hour already with a dozen others, and also because I did not like someone acting like a servant to me!   Had I been in a shop or café I would not have noticed, but having someone I knew doing this appeared suddenly to be wrong.  

I remember a TV programme from around 35 years ago.  This featured a plane load of passengers on a 'Round the World Trip,' and paying £20,000 a go for the pleasure.  I would not like to guess how much the cost would be today.  India, Egypt, Easter Island and other places were visited, with guides, to most people's pleasure.  However, to moments in India remain in my mind.  One was the complaint from passengers unknown, that they were 'seeing a lot of poverty in India,' and they 'did not wish to see poverty.'  Hmmm...  Other passengers shared the same opinion as you.  

The second memory was of these people, on horse drawn carts, being taken two by two, into a grand house for dinner that evening.  As they drove in around the entrance along the path people stood throwing flower petals over them, as if the passengers were famous individuals.  At the time I cringed at this, I felt sure that had I been there I would have got out and thrown petals across those paid a few rupees to welcome the great, rich, visitors.  The idea of serfs welcoming you with bowing and flower throwing may suit some, I find it grates somewhat.  The complaining types will have enjoyed that bit.

I made my excuses and made my second cup of tea myself, though I did find the kitchen full of women getting in one another's way, and forced myself in among them. Later, I sneaked out, washing my cup by myself, partly to avoid overworking the ladies, partly to avoid using them as serfs.  I don't think they noticed, so I wandered of home.  No serfs here, that is why nothing gets done...

    

Post, Tesco, Angels...

Isn't it annoying that when you have done everything someone you forgot sends you a card?  So first thing today I trot down to the Post Office to send an heavy letter, the kids needed something, and hopefully I will not be back until the new year.  Surely there is no other required now?

 

That did not mean I could sit here and do all the other online stuff that is required, oh no.  I discovered I needed bread.  This was going to wait until tomorrow when the shops are crowded with the desperate piling the trolleys with stuff they don't need, but I decided it had better be done today.  So off I trotted round the town, to see if anything good was happening, it wasn't, and then into Tesco for a handful of things.  

30,000 people were also looking for a handful of things, some requiring several children to help them gather the needfuls.  Such fun!  This christmas most people have developed the Christmas frown.  Desparate for that gift, that important item, the family coming, going, not going, and what will the family/neighbours/someone think attitude, all blessing the season.  Today however, all was pleasant.  

As we queued there were debates as to the time we could get home, the need to return tomorrow for those forgotten items, and whether the kids would make the big tin of old fashioned sweets last until New Year.  That was an easy one to answer, no they would not!  All pleasant and correct.

 

Late last night I noticed these Angels appearing on the fence opposite.  This happens annually now.  Most have a card attached indicating these are to be taken and cared for.  Many had disappeared by this evening as usual.  Small things really but many think this adds something to Christmas.  

Oh yes, I have forgotten something and now must visit Sainsburys before the panic driven arrive!  No long lie in bed tomorrow...

Christmas St Andrews

It was dreich when I forced my unwilling bulk out off bed this morning.  Too tired to think I yet cogitated over the bag lying on the floor with items that had to be posted this morning.  So, after much strife, I forced myself down the road to the Post Office with the young woman who smiles at me.

For most the the past few years I have endured the walk down there rather than face the hard bitten and unhelpful staff recruited from the Lubyanka when it closed in 1989 in the town centre Post Office.  

I learned recently the present town centre has closed and people are advised the nearest is down Panfield Lane.  This is untrue but in case they file into the one I use I will keep quiet about this.

When I first arrived the PO was in what was called the 'Quadrant,' a fancy name for the Co-op.  This was then staffed by Soviet types, personality and heart removed, and led to long queues and occasional opportunities to find bile on my tongue.  Later it moved to another part of the building and only the lass with the 1960's hairstyle remained, new unhelpful staff being recruited.  However, by now I was going down the road to the smile, or just had no money to send anything anywhere and kept clear of the place.

Now 'Quadrant' was not a shop I used much, female dominated department store type of place, and it held a wonderful array of staff who could never be found.  For instance, I looked upstairs in the furniture department for a new stereo some time ago, the chap was loitering at the front as I wandered about looking at things.  One caught my eye, I turned to speak and golly, he had gone!  This was typical of 'Quadrant!'

Then in one of the few occasions I ventured in, Christmas possibly, I noticed the PO had gone, I knew not where.  Later I found it in the town centre, in a small newsagent type shop with a large array of counters and unhelpful staff in the rear.  The queue wended it's miserable way past the cheap toys and papers while the unsmiling brutes demanded to know what was in each package in a manner befitting an Israeli Border Guard.  I had a run in with them also.  Now this too has closed, no reason given.  No profit, no staff through Covid, someone fiddling the books?  I do not know.  So, it is off to the smiling lass who speaks only enough English to get through the day, as do the family who run the rest of the corner shop, never closing being Hindu, and able to compete with the Tesco Express almost next door.  An excellent shop.  I passed over my three items, gasped when she told me the price and she laughed, however I cleverly bought Christmas stamps which it turns out I do not require.

So, almost all the posting is done, one box, still to be found, a card or two and then online ordering for other items and I am done.

Tee Hee, how far on are you?

 

Considering this is St Andrews Day I felt the weather was very Scotch.  Though warmer than yesterday, I doubted Andrew, while fishing with his brother Simon on the Lake of Galilee would endure such a west wind as was reminding me of my days heading up Ferry Road from Leith.  He may have endured squalls, rain, and snow every thirty years or so but in between he had high temperatures and plenty of time to lie in the sun and forget work.  That did not occur in Leith!

It is difficult to believe those men of Fife accepted the words of single monk in a coracle who landed with nothing but a bag containing Andrews bones (he said) and they named a town after him.  One up on others I suppose but did they not do an internet check?  I suspect now Nigel Farage would appear and send him back from whence he came, wherever that was.  Where Saint Andrew actually died is of course unknown, though legends abound.  For myself I doubt whether it was on or near the Fife coast.

 

Wandering Free.

 

Parcelforce arrived before 10 this morning to collect my package with a smile.  He obviously had not read my Twitter feed.  Relieved of the bulk I then proceeded deliberately in an easterly direction towards the Post Office, here I deposited another, smaller, package with the young lady who smiles at me when I visit.  She appeared a bit down this morning for reasons unknown.  I always use this PO as it is better when you get a smile rather than the expression of the ex-Stasi operatives who are employed at the main PO.  They have never employed a human being in that office yet as far as I can see, and it has moved position several times in the past 24 years, to hide from past employees perhaps?  Smiles?  Did Soviet Union Border Guards ever smile?  Neither do that lot.

Having despatched two parcels, with nothing to do but catch up on things undone, with the sun shining to the south and big gray clouds gathering in the west I headed homewards via the parks to see some greenery, thus wasting time and being unable to attend to things undone.  The rusting leaves were annoying one man who was brushing a pile of them out of his driveway onto the council pathway.  It came from their trees I suppose.  Autumn is upon us, though in fact it is Sunday when British Summer Time ends.  I suppose this means the clocks go back.  Church services everywhere, at least where they open, will find at least one person an hour behind! 

I can cope with temperatures in the 50's, neither cold nor warm, but as I hobble along I am warm enough.  People out walking dogs and venturing to and from shops appeared at ease, allowing for masks and social distancing.  The dogs of course just wanted to speak to everybody, social distancing means little to them.  

 

 

Rishi Sunak, known better as 'that chancellor bloke,' has been barred from a pub in Stokelsey, in his constituency.  Also barred are three other Tory MPs in northern constituencies.  This because they voted against feeding needy children over Christmas.  On top of that the prices seen in the Commons 'Tea Rooms' have annoyed many,especially when voting against feeding children.  

It is nice to see free individuals standing up for children, especially this one who, as a publican, may well be losing money in these difficult times.  

Marcu Rashford, the Manchester United footballer who started this campaign, has been supported by many individual cafe's, restaurants, pubs and councils in deciding to feed such children.  I suspect Boris will be too busy this Christmas feeding his own, if he can work out who they are.

 

Post, Rain, Coal Mines,

 

 

The weathermen said 'Rain in afternoon.'  "Good!" said I, and before noon wandered down to the Post Office with my two packets.  The sun shone the sky was blue, it was even warm on the far side of the street, so I crossed over, slowly these days annoying the motorists, and wandered happily into the shop.  I was in so quick I forgot to put on my mask and risked a £100 fine.  I told the sweet Asian lass at the counter (I only go there because she always smiles at me) I was Boris Johnson's dad, so she let me off.  £2:14 paid, change pocketed, xerox paper bought, I was down to my last sheet, and off I went back home.  Naturally the sun had gone, the sky was dark gray, the rain hammered down, and I was fair drookit by the time I got home.  I am still wet now, my hair cold and clammy.  Was the cloud waiting for me?  Could it be the BBC had got it wrong?  Before noon and the rain was falling, now, after one pm the sun is out again and I am still cold!  It is a good job I am not one to complain, that's all I can say.

 

I just typed in 'Freefotos rain' on 'images' and found many excellent free fotos.  At least they appear free and I am making use of them.  Very useful when you do not get out as much as you would like. I had to get out this morning to post the family details I had been looking into.  My mothers side were all miners from Fife, and it appears that between the early 1600s and almost 1800, some say much later, miners were enslaved to the Lairds who ran the mines.  Coal being important, using trees for firewood banned, the Lairds ensured worers were available for this horrid, hard, dirty, dangerous work by passing laws forcing them, and their descendents, to work for them in their mines.  Moving location was outlawed, wages low, danger to life high.  Add to this small cottages, not always healthy, poor diet, no NHS, and lots of children, it can be seen that attitudes towards coal owners would not be based on love!  

I note that not only do my forefathers first appear in the East Neuk of Fifearound 1620 but they marry people who also cannot move on.  This does not help chasing up relatives, especially with the Scots habit of giving one child grandad's name.  So we have Colin and Robert repeated endlessly over generations, not helped by other family lines doing similar.  The Scottish Mining Website gives details of many accidents, about 5 deaths a month in Scots pits, during the 19th century alone.  The uncles I knew in Cowdenbeath, realeased from slavery by their time, would not allow their sons to go through what they endured.  All got apprentiships somewhere else. 

My grandfather had 11 children.  Two died early, and he went through 3 wives to get them, they too died early.  Not unusual in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.  On those few occasions I have had to work physically hard I see it bears no relation to men working with pick and shovel down a mine in which the coal face may be less than 2 feet high!  The dust, physical difficulty, bad, uncaring management, and low wage makes it difficult for me to complain at the work I have been involved with.  

My mother had a story concerning a family member, possibly a brother of my granddad, who became a manager in a pit.  The family cut him off as if he had died!  This was a crossing over to the other side that could not be forgiven, and never was.

 

This Sucks...

Walking barefoot across the floor I left a trail of footprints in the dust.  It crossed my mind that I must get a new hoover sometime soon. 
The one I have does work, at least through the hose bit, the rest burnt out a while back.  This means it takes time crossing the floor and I tend to let things lie, well dust, crumbs and those little white bits that appear from nowhere, usually after I have finished hoovering!  
So I started searching for prices etc and instead just got confused.
Pages of strange stick instruments telling me they were 'cordless' or 'pet care' and 'bagless' met me.  Online the screen was filled with the same offerings.  Nowhere did a 'Hoover' type hoover appear.  At last I found hoovers from 'Hoover,' and rejected them.  They were upright, as they ought to be, had bags, cords and tubes, however being 'Hoover' hoovers they were rubbish!  That anti EU man 'Dyson' had many strange grossly overpriced Malaysian made offerings on show, not for me Mr anti EU but live in Singapore or New York thanks.  If you wish Brexit live in the nation you give it to.
These strange skinny hoovers, where does the dust go?  'Bagless' I understand, I see how that works, and cordless, sounds great but this means plugging the thing into the electric for hours to charge up, how much does that cost you?  I prefer a cord here.   

I have not yet really got used to the prices.  The cheapest is around £129, some go up into the £500's!  Who needs to pay that for a hoover?  Are these folks mad or is it just show?  A vacuum to match the fancy car outside perhaps?  Either way I was not much in love with things of high price.  There is evidence that I was confused!  What to do?  
Maybe I ought to go for an expensive one that will last, 'Miele' perhaps.  That is a company with a decent reputation, or at least it had in the past.  A wander through the shops tomorrow is now on the cards.  Being Wednesday it will be busier and less chance of me accidentally buying something.  

This morning, in another attempt at fitness I walked down to the Post Office where the young girl smiles at me.  It appears to get further away each time I go there.  Not only did she ask for £3:50 for a packet containing a couple of books but she didn't smile either.  She did not offer a happy sight, she was upset at someone in the shop, I know not whom.  Disappointing as when I wandered back I continued to Sainsburys where the girl there offered a grumpy appearance to one and all, mind you I was using those 'self service' machines which are horrible.  I only went there as the Post Office did not have what I wanted and so I slogged all the way up the road.  After this, to enhance fitness, I exercised (though this would not be what an expert would call it) and now am totally exhausted!
Happily this stops me doing anything else...

 

The Calender Year

Early this morning, long before breakfast, I rose into the freezing air and headed once more towards the sorting office.  The land was white with frost, the air clear, and the sun vainly tried to shine through the thin layer of cloud that covered the land.  A similar one to mine was noted over a Scots golf course this morning.  I passed a miserable postman scraping ice of his van windscreen (Van? In my day a bike was all we had!) and joined the well wrapped up folks in the queue awaiting mail the postman had failed to deliver.

 
The small queue moved slowly as the miserable old git struggled to operate the computer system, read the paperwork and remain alive while doing his job.  As I waited I cuddled a female postman who passed by on her way to her van, she was one of the more intelligent women when I was employed here, now she is a mother of three wondering what the museum can do for the kids during half term.  We discussed this while she held the door open allowing freezing air to enter the building thus allowing the others to offer dark stares from under their woollen headgear.  

Eventually misery took my card and half heartedly listened to my description of the goods (large white card envelope for calender) he should search for.  He disappeared into the building and I watched men in red shirts shove items large and small from one place to another.  I knew the man in charge had a good idea what to do but I got the impression he was moving things they had just placed in their place to offer them the correct spot!  Nothing new in 'the box' I thought.  Misery trudged through with the large white card envelope as described and slowly and at the second attempt grumpily flashed the hand held computer over it and passed it to me without a smile.  
Clearly, as I thought, the goods were there when I was telling the girl the other day they were there and some grumpy dope had not put it on the system.  
Twice I have taken my sore knees down there without complaining to collect this and what do I now have sitting here on my desk?  A 'Broons' Calendar!  The 'Broons' are a Scots cartoon family that live in a tenement building somewhere in industrial Scotland.  Originating in 1936 they were intended to be generic of a typical Scots family of the time and their adventures are still recorded in the 'Sunday Post' week by week and remain a children's favourite.  'The Sunday Post' once sold so many 'family' papers that it was thought 80% of Scots read the paper.  The writing style was often called 'old womanish' in its approach though often what is written is far from that these days.  I myself ceased reading it forty years ago and seeing it now it changeth not. However it will decorate this room for the next year allowing me to forget to add birthdays, events etc as I ought....

The Post.

I drifted slowly down to the Post Office the other day to obtain stamps for Christmas.  Quite why I know not as I still have plenty from last year, indeed the year before!  It is however untrue that I still possess and make use of tuppence halfpenny stamps bearing George VI' image upon them!    
Now it costs 65pence for a first class stamp, 56 for a second class and while this sounds expensive to the pennypinchers amongst us I think that sending a letter/card from one end of the country to the other for that price is well worth it.  92 per cent get there the next day and from my own Royal Mail experience I know that most of those that don't have address problems which the postie has to solve and the sender will never accept.  
There is no doubt that Royal Mail for all its problems, mostly bad management, Royal Mail offers a great service.  When postmen are regular one a round they can deal well with the folks they meet, and avoid one or two others, each 'walk' has one woman who it is best to avoid!  I enjoyed that job even though my knees didn't and wish I had begun the work many years before.

Not that I send much through the post these days, mostly birthday cards and the like, but I am happy to receive this way.  Much better to have books delivered by post than by Amazon's awful own company that delivers when and if!  Buying second had books through Amazon means the sender uses Royal Mail thus making it easier all round.  What a shame Amazon think their way is better.
I had one card to send this week, having nieces is difficult as if I forget one the others gloat, if I forget them they grumble, and you know what girls are like when grumbling!  So off the card went, with gift cards inside though why I bother as she earns more in a year than I earned in a long lifetime.  I suspect her Xmas will be spent in New York or on the Spanish Coast where she and her man will swill lots of cheap beer, well he will, and squander their cash which they could make better use of by giving it to me!
Good job I'm not one to complain!

Bad Royal Mail management has led to the feeble union taking a stand at long last and calling a strike on Oct 19th.  Had they stood their ground years ago there might have been better conditions then but they kept quiet feared the union might end up in court and they would lose their jobs.  Over 60,000 men have been lost to RM because of this.  This strike concerns the pension which as is common these days the company is fiddling.  I doubt this will make much difference in the long run.

 

A Normal Day

An eye opens slightly noting the grayish sky seen through the break in the grubby curtains.  The ear picks up a monotone voice offering violence, death and destruction, clearly the news so it must be the hour or half hour.  The body and brain continue to attempt sleep even though it will not come. It reaches half past five, a clear two hours before awakening was planned.  Turn to the other side, turn back, repeat process, still the voice continues monotone like spreading fear and anxiety with a gentle tone, the energy required to change channel not yet appearing the voice continues, the body still awaits seven thirty, the mind continues degenerating.  The other eye opens, looks around, does not like what it sees, closes again.  Sleep is supposed to be continuous for several hours, why then does my sleep run out before my body has finished with it? The grayness now possesses a blueish tinge, the radio has been changed to music and gentle Haydn soothes the brain but sleep does not return.  Vehicles begin to rumble past the window, feet, wearing iron shod boots clump down stairs, slam the main door shaking the building and clatter up the road.  Voices murmur as they pass, probably on a phone, trees rustle as the chill wind rushes down the street.  Thoughts run through the head, fears, dreams, hopes, wishes, all muddled, unclear and heading nowhere.  In the far distance dogs bark cheerfully, aircraft pass high overhead taking lucky folks to sunshine or maybe just Aberdeen, an early morning schoolchild drags his feet unwillingly towards his daily prison. Quarter to eight, still waiting on that last needed thirty minutes the body struggles up into the cold air, another day of joy and happiness will begin if both eyes open and find some degree of focus.  

The box was not big, I was paying, the contents disappointing, I was paying, the one receiving my sister, this was her present plus the cards for everyone else in the vicinity, thus saving me postage. The Post Office was all the way down the road.  I hobbled half asleep and upset that bus driver when I walked in front of him and he missed.  Surprisingly the place was not busy, unsurprisingly one woman was at the counter taking all day over various forms.  However the young lass took my parcel with her constant smile and showed excellent customer service by coming round the counter and helping me back up after she told me the price!  That was my last Christmas item posted and the lass has got used to me now as I have been in several times recently and I am glad that is all over.  From now on the postmen will be very busy and my stuff is on its way. Next week your stuff will be delayed!  Ho Ho HO!  

   

Travails.

As I turned in I noticed two postmen I knew, good men and true, one on his bike heading out bearing that constant smile on his face, a smile that makes us wonder what he had been inhaling, and the other who appeared to all purposes now to work in this office.  I took my ticket and collected the note detailing my winnings.  The money amount was clearly marked at the top and as I glanced at the £24,000 there I noticed to my surprise the other prizes also.  Two weeks in some sunny rich man's playground far away, a week elsewhere, and other lesser but quite welcome prizes.  It was then I noticed the prize money was in fact £200,000!  Much better and as I began to work out where I could get a wee house for that amount I turned towards the desk to claim the winnings when I heard John Humphreys muttering banalities on the 'Today' programme muttering about the time.
"Drat! Not even got my head of the pillow and already I have lost £200,000!"
So I entered Tuesday in the manner in which I intended to continue, as so it proved.  The day was dominated by another ex-US hurricane which were supposed to flood us out, knock down all the trees and high buildings and cause mayhem everywhere.  Indeed in places this was the case but it does appear we now err on the side of safety and urge warnings a wee bit too keenly I reckon. The use of common sense by the populace is lessening.  
I persevered.  Slowly I went through the routine, slowly I ate, slowly I ignored the news, slowly it dawned on me that I was watching the clock say ten minutes past ten.  "Ah, I can get ready at half past I thought.
Suddenly the fog lifted, I was supposed to start at ten and it was ten past already!
Dementia has begin folks.
I faced the struggle to the museum bravely even though driving rain threatened to wash me away as I limped up the road.  It stopped once I arrived and remained quiet until I came home!  
Busy as we were, fixing those little things that needed fixing, cutting thinsg that needed cutting and sellotaping things that should not have been cut, dealing with lots of visitors, including in fact one real dementia patient and her escort - what a sad sight that was - discovering a school class was quietly wrecking the joint and another event was on today so that much of the day was taken up with others running around daft for that.  This left me alone much of the time and luckily nothing demanding occurred.  I also took delivery of large old books, for myself, which I bought (cheap) from a colleague which then required lugging home.  Lots of heavy reading lies ahead.  I made two trips and collected the rest today.  How heavy can a book be I wondered?   My arms now reach my knees. At least our own book is now in stock and should be on sale today.
On top of this my knees ache and carrying heavy bags does not help.  Having got two lots home, up the stairs, and onto the floor I then lay beside them gasping for breath and demanding oxygen from whoever heard my groans.
No reply came the reply!
The fog over the mind all day was so bad that even though I attempted to watch two football matches I could hardly concentrate on the first, it just tired me out, and the second failed so badly I actually had to switch it off and sleep.
That reminds, me I must buy some brandy....

Today began without losing vast amounts of money, and the £150 million is still available in the lottery if I buy a ticket.  Instead of dreaming of wealth beyond my wildest dreams I hobbled all the way to the Post Office, waited while the man in the steel helmet, visor and armoured outfit delivered the new stamps, and then I posted three expensive packets.  Tripping over my own feet on the way back I wondered why those men never smile?  Is it part of the training to look tough in case the old women in the shop attack you?  So far when meeting such men they give the impression of being soul dead. Rarely do they look the type you would employ let alone trust with valuables.  I suspect most are recruited from ex-prisoners. 
I limped to the museum, collected my remaining heavy books and asked if the girls there could help by massaging my knees for me.  They flung me out the door somewhat rudely and left me to collect myself and climb back over the wee wall from the garden bit where I landed and attempt to make my way home. This proved difficult as today's Victorian school arrived like a stampede of Buffalo and ran over me once again.
As I climbed the stairs thanks were offered for bits of me still working.

Then came the painters.  Limited in their work by the rain nothing has been done for a week, one being afraid to climb the ladder in the high wind yesterday in case it blew him off, the big Jessie!  I see no reason for this as he has already fallen off one so must be used to it.  Today, as the rain ceased they glossed the bottom windows and following his success of leaving my living room window jammed for five years jammed the bedroom one!  Much later, we both struggled after he had released the window from his six inches of paint and attempted to get the thing to shut again!  He almost fell off his ladder that time, but I changed my mind and didn't push!  Sash windows can be difficult, especially when he is around.  This pair also involved me with clambering up and down stairs to assist lost motorists find places when their map failed to include the one way systems.  I also had to convey tea to the workers. 'Workers' is a word used loosely around these parts. They have not finished and have been called away to other jobs.  They might be back by February.  My windows are open, downstairs remain jammed!


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